Three new pieces of micro fiction for you today from three separate writers – we start short, then get shorter and shorter...

​Traditionby Lara Alonso Corona

Diving was in Mariana's blood stronger than blood. Saltier too. She was raised on both, blood and salt and it was hard for her to tell them apart sometimes, even from the taste of them. She dived for her livelihood and now she dived for her life, reaching deeper and deeper each time, as if her arms grew longer the more she pushed her way through the undertow. She was surprised to find that, upon touch, the golden scales of the beast were as soft as furr and as welcoming as a sunlit childhood memory and its eyes were the color of Mariana's mother's eyes, or what she remembers of them, having lost her to the sea so many years ago. Even under water the scales trembled in her hand, and Mariana realized the creature was trying to escape her grip, and not the other way around. Blood saltier than seawater and during storm days – when the color of waves is the same color as blood dissolving in them – the dark animals below the surface take care not to venture too close to the breakwater, because Mariana's nails are sharp like rocks on the reef and she can hold her breath underwater almost as long as the beasts and she's pitiless like the gods of old. Careful, gentle monster. Careful, for girls have scales too.

* Lara Alonso Corona was born in a small city in the north of Spain. She completed her Film and TV studies in Madrid before moving to London to study creative fiction. Her fiction has appeared online and in print in magazines including The Copperfield Review, Literary Orphans, Devilfish Review and Whiskey Island. You can follow her on Twitter at @lalonsocorona

The Gardensby Andrew Kozma

The pine trees started it all with their beady little cones and prickly embrace. They littered the earth with their complaints, and when we didn’t listen, they brought us to court. The entire human race they brought to court, and for sideshow entertainment, they sued cows, goats, pigs, and chickens, too.

Pine trees have always been impetuous, but we weren’t worried. The courts would throw out the case. When has one kingdom ever successfully sued another?

But the courts didn’t throw out the case. Lawyers lined up to volunteer for the prosecution, well aware that this was the case of the era, the epoch, even the geologic age. And for witnesses, all the trees and grass and molds – even though they weren’t really plants– lined up on the witness stand to give vent to their feelings.

We didn’t even know they had feelings.

Of course, not every plant turned against us. We’d bred tulips to be docile and the bonsai trees were proud of their looks. We were surprised the Redwoods stood by our side, but relieved. Imagine the courthouse we’d have had to build?

* Andrew Kozma lives in Houston, Texas, and his fiction has appeared or will appear in Drabblecast, Daily Science Fiction, Stupefying Stories and Albedo One.

Foresightby Shannon Connor Winward

It was happening again. When she stopped to check her lipstick, the horde stared back: white-eyed, open-mouthed, bloody. Hungry.

Cassandra backed away. The horde pressed closer, bones and plaster cracking, shards of mirror falling to the floor. Cassandra shook one foot, then the other, ridding her black stiletto heels of broken glass.

Adam looked stunning in his new suit. The keys jingled in his hands. “You ready? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” The mirror was whole again, reflecting only Cassandra. “Just let me get my coat,” she murmured, forcing a smile. "And my katana. It's going to be brutal out there tonight.”

* Shannon Connor Winward lives in Delaware. Her writing has appeared in Pseudopod, Star*Line, Flash Fiction Online and Strange Horizons, among others. She is also a poetry editor for Devilfish Review. www.shannonconnorwinward.com

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